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Counseling Helped Me Stay in My Marriage
I started with my pants: comfy workout leggings, stretchy yoga pants—anything made of spandex and secured by an elastic waistband. These pants screamed, “New mom vibes!” They were a clear signal to the world that I was trying, even if I was just a notch above my boxers with the Jim Beam logo. These pants declared, “Please, just leave me alone.”
I didn’t keep track of how many pairs I stuffed into my little blue suitcase, but soon I moved on to shirts—nothing fancy, just a mix of graphic tees and basic tank tops. I grabbed a few bras, maybe six pairs of underwear, and a mountain of socks, both matched and mismatched.
I was in no position to ponder what to pack; I just needed to finish the task. I had to zip it up, lock it, scoop up my sleeping 11-month-old daughter, and step out the door.
Leaving felt like my only option.
It wasn’t always like this. My husband, the father of my child, and I met when we were just 12 years old, in seventh grade. I was the shy blonde, and he was the stout, shy boy who caught my eye. After weeks of watching him, I mustered the courage to ask him to save a dance for “the witch” at our school’s Halloween bash. He did, and that night we laughed, danced, and held hands over 50-cent sodas in the cafeteria.
Before I knew it, we were friends, then a couple, then engaged, and finally married. But as time passed, everything shifted. We evolved, and I found myself questioning whether I loved him or just the idea of him.
Soon enough, I was packing that blue suitcase, planning my escape. I felt like I was on the brink of wanting a divorce.
Having a child flips everything upside down. While I was warned about sleep deprivation and the toll it would take on my body (spoiler: it totally did), no one prepared me for the seismic shifts in my marriage. As the novelty of parenthood wore off, divorce crept into my thoughts.
We were arguing more, I was crying more, and instead of opening up, we were retreating from each other. I found myself contemplating leaving—not in a teenage angst kind of way, but in a desperate, “What have I done?” manner. I was working harder and sleeping less, and that suitcase became a constant companion, packed and unpacked numerous times over three months. It was always close by, ready for action.
Finally, when my daughter turned 15 months old, I declared I wanted a divorce. But we decided to give marriage counseling a shot before making any final decisions.
Marriage is hard. Anyone who says otherwise is just kidding themselves. It demands relentless effort, patience, and compromise. At first, everything feels like a Hallmark card, but the honeymoon phase fades, and reality sets in. The bickering escalates; discussions about silly things turn into knock-down drag-out fights about respect and love.
I know this because we lived it. I was ready to open a separate bank account and knock on divorce’s door, convinced we were too broken to fix. But if we were going to part ways, we’d do it right—by exploring every avenue, including therapy.
Now, more than a year into counseling, I can say we’re doing better. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but today, there’s understanding, tenderness, empathy, and love. My suitcase is unpacked, and for now, that’s enough. I’ve come to realize I love my husband—not just the concept of loving him.
If you’re interested in related topics, check out our blog post on intracervicalinsemination.com for more insights. And for those curious about pregnancy, CDC.gov offers an excellent resource. If you’re exploring home insemination, Make a Mom is a great authority on the subject.
In summary, counseling has made a significant difference in my marriage, helping me stay grounded and connected to my husband.